


Bucky Barnes - random drabbles

by interestedbystander



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Random & Short, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 12:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16974297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestedbystander/pseuds/interestedbystander
Summary: Drabble prompt requests and/or silly random daydream thoughts originally published on Tumblr. These are non-sequential, just some fun.





	1. Bucky’s first haircut since busting outta cryo

**Author's Note:**

> All drabbles will be new chapters - if you're keen to keep up, hit the 'subscribe' button :)

Sitting in a barber in Brooklyn Steve had insisted was was as close to what Bucky remembered from the 40’s, you watched as the world’s once most feared man clearly regreted his choice to lop off his long dark strands.

“It’s not too late - “ you tried, last thing you wanted was a meltdown. And Bucky was good at hiding his fear. But right now, you were seeing the last connection to his old life disappear. You knew this is why you were here with him and why he was choosing this.

The Winter Soldier and his long hair. The red star on his old arm replaced with the vibranium and gold slivers. His beard gone for yesterday’s stubble. It was about change. Not the personality, but the exterior. Bringing Bucky back to what he remembered about the days he loved.

“It’s fine,” Bucky replied.

“You sure?” You played with the warm fingers that were in your palms as he waited his turn.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be fine once it’s done, babydoll,” he whispered. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You blackmailed me with ice cream. How could I say no?”

He gave you that wide, cheeky smile as ‘James’ was called and he stood. Hesitating, he leaned back down to kiss you. “Hope you can cope with the shorter hair. I know you like it long.”

As he moved, you grabbed his hand again and dragged him back. “Trust me, there will be enough hair to pull when you get me back to the apartment, Sarge.”

He scoffed a laugh at your ballsy comment, not remotely surprised at the frankness. “That fuckin’ mouth,” he whispered, giving you another quick kiss. “Now lemme do this. Distract me _hard_ later.”


	2. You’re desperate for Bucky to take you to bed, and he obliges as only a gentleman can.

After a few drinks in the Tower, you’re sloppy and clinging to Bucky desperately - your crush spelled out clear as day and all over your face. He relishes in it, loving your warm form so close to his and you beg him to _take_ you to bed. He agrees but _puts_ you to bed, murmuring that he’s an old-fashioned guy and when he takes you to bed, it’ll be a ride that you’ll never expect or be able to repeat but you’re passed out in a snuggly cocoon of PJ’s, socks, a messy ponytail and the warmest duvet in the tri-state area. 

He grins as he watches you, leaning against the doorway, warm, comfy and safe. “One day, babydoll - you’ll remember the nights I put you to bed. They will turn into the ones you won’t wanna forget,” his Brooklyn drawl thick and filled with desire of all he really wants to do to satisfy you.

With that, he turns off the lights and bids you a silent goodnight, making way for his room and a pleasant goodnight himself. 


	3. Upon return to the Tower after a mission, Bucky needs a little TLC

FRIDAY announced Bucky’s return before he arrived. Living in the Tower, no one truly enjoyed unexpected guests. You hear the heavy footfall of his war torn boots being kicked off at the door and the clink of body armour being loosened, a gentle jingle getting clearer as he got closer to your room.

With a gentle knock, Bucky peered in with a completely exhausted though faint smile, his tac gear in various states of unbuckle and hanging from him. “I didn’t wake you?” he asked softly, pushing himself into the room as in as you shook your head, closing your book, slipping off your glasses and putting them both on the bedside table. 

You rarely slept when he was away anyway. “How are you, baby?” you asked, wanting to desperately wrap your arms around him but you hesitated.

“Tired,” he admitted, moving to his side on the bed and collapsing. You bounced a little with the weight of his frame as he crashed onto his soft pillows, his arms of leather and vibranium covering over his handsome features. “Fuck,” he yawned.

“You can’t go to bed like that, sweetheart,” you reminded him. “Shower then pass out.”

“Can’t find the energy to undress.”

“Need a little help, soldier?” you offered, feigning a tease in your voice. He stifled a chuckle and he peered at you. You gave him a slight run down to see what ailments Bucky had come home with. He’d just come back from defending the planet. He didn’t cower to you when approached, he didn’t appear to need you any more than usual after an arduous fight. You didn’t spot the fear in his eyes, he wasn’t giving you the silent treatment as he was accustomed to at times if the mission was purely atrocious. 

He was simply drained. Mentally and physically. Probably the best result. “You can undress me any time you want to, babydoll,” he replied, a smile creeping to his full lips but he didn’t move. “You know that.”

You rolled you eyes and giggled lightly. “I gotta do all the work _like always_.”

Catching his attention, he sat up. “ _Scuzați-mă_?!”

You laughed heartedly this time and moved to sit on his waist, the rest of the leather on his chest needing to be undone and stripped from him. Pushing back his heavy vest and helping him whip off his _ripe_ under armour, you gave him a smile and planted a pointed kiss to his left shoulder scarring. He hummed, lacing flesh fingers through your hair.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did so deal with it,” you grinned. 

“That fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned. 

“Stand, please,” you ordered.

“Can’t. Too tired, too sore.”

“Oh, my God. How anyone feared you for over 70 years with the puss you’re giving me right now,” you said, exasperated. You moved to your feet and held your hands out.

He grunted and forced himself up, it’s not like you were going to be able to get 200lb of super solider up without gaining a hernia. He paid particular attention as you worked on his pants - nothing sexual about it but he sighed contented, just enjoying your touch as you forced the kevlar down his thick thighs and to his ankles. He stepped out of them, leaving him in his boxer briefs. 

You took a step closer to him, inspecting new gashes and bruises, one flesh wound taking your interest. Stitched in the field and skin starting to meld together thanks to the super soldier serum coursing through his veins, “What happened here?” you kissed around the area. Looked like a slash and he confirmed as much. “You’d think these HYDRA dudes would be bored of trying to kill you, huh?”

He nodded, his dark hair falling into his bright eyes. “You’d think,” he agreed.

“Shower,” you pointed towards the ensuite.

“Take a bath with me?” he suggested instead. You couldn’t argue with him and found yourself and your man in the scalding water a few minutes later. Bucky leaned forward as you washed his back, the hot water starting to turn murky with dirt that flushed off Bucky’s body. Dropping the wash cloth in the bath, you used your hands to get into the knots in Bucky’s shoulders and neck. “That feels so good,” he admitted, voice rough with tiresomeness and maybe a little pleasure before leaning back against you, his head falling back to rest against your shoulder and you kissed his temple.

“I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

“Not half as much as I missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m just glad to be back in your arms. 

“Me too, Bucky. Me too.” 


	4. Angry sex

“You don’t call, text, send a goddamn homing pigeon – that’s how you old bastards communicate, isn’t it?! You just fucking turn up whenever the hell you want to, expect me on my back or with my ass in the air. You make me feel like fucking shit, Bucky!” you roared as he leaned back on the bed, an eyebrow raised casually as he leaned back against his elbow. If anything, he simply looked entertained.

Arrogant as fuck and it only infuriated you more.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to get married,” he replied snidely. “We had an agreement. Just sex,” he shrugged. “I don’t see the big deal. Don’t I make you feel good?” He couldn’t be more blasé if he tried. And you knew he was trying to be as much of an asshole as possible. “If you want me to leave, let me just get my shit and go.”

“I want you to leave,” you told him as he pushed himself up to sit, grabbed his worn, blood splattered boots and headed for the bedroom door.

“Your call, sugar. But you’re the one that forgot the rules.”

“You walked into my apartment while I’m here with another guy like it was nothing! You laughed and told him to leave since he couldn’t fuck me like you could.”

“To be fair, I don’t hear you arguin’ the point.”

“Go!” you hissed.

“One kiss.”

You walked to the door and shoved it open. “Get. Out.”

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in defense, his smug grin widening as he went towards it, stopping before you. “Just be honest with yourself, at least. No one moves you the way I do. And I think that is what scares you the most – that you miss me when I’m gone. It’s not just about the fuckin’ anymore.”

You slapped him sharply across the side of his face. You never actually envisaged what slapping The Winter Soldier would be like but the fear that swept over you made you step back as he touched his cheek gently and he cornered you into the door.

“Don’t do that again, sweetheart.”

All you wanted to do was slap the spit from his mouth as his body closed you in, his hips against yours, his arousal evident and before you knew it, you were all around him – lips kissing his hungrily, hands pulling at his clothes and hair and he laughed against your mouth, hitching you into his arms and making the quick strides across the room to dump you on your bed. He made light work of his leather jacket, hoodie and jeans before ripping your clothes off similarly.

“I didn’t think this is what you wanted anymore, sugar,” he taunted, parting your legs wide and writhing his hips against yours. “Wet, needy. Have I made you like this? Strong? Demanding control? Perfect. I love that you know what you want. But you ain’t foolin’ no one, darlin’. No one,” his metal fingers slipping to your core and snuck a cheeky digit in. “Especially not me.”


	5. Bucky's first Father's Day

Bucky got in late - so late, you remembered as the wailing woke you with a start. Bucky, usually a very light sleeper, was snoring facedown across 3/4 of the bed, completely out cold. You were suddenly not so concerned of waking him after he returned from what you assumed was a fairly arduous mission.

Finding your nightgown, you slipped it on in the chilly room and wandered lightly down the hall to the noise. Your drooling, teething and feverish baby was desperate for your cuddles and protection as you reached into the cot to soothe him. “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” you repeated, enveloping the little body in your arms, swaying the bundle of warmth against you as Bucky appeared with a weary smile, long hair in 23 different directions and the baby pain relief in his hands. You nodded gently as he dolled it out and handed you the dropper to administer it.

“What can I do, sweetheart?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your son’s clammy forehead. “I missed him so much.”

“I know, Buck,” you cupped his stubbly cheek as he rested his forehead against yours. So gently, your son was hitched into his arms and he was pushing you towards the door and himself to the rocking chair.

“Go,” he urged, taking a seat. “I got this.”

“You sure?” You leaned against the doorframe, so exhausted but hoping you weren’t showing it. He grinned back in the dim room, shooing you out. “Thank you,” you blew him a kiss and went back to bed.

The next morning you woke alone and not to the sounds of a babbling baby demanding attention. Strange beginning, you yawned and dragged your sorry ass from bed. “Coffee,” you said decisively as you shuffled down the apartment hallway.

The sounds of baby giggles got louder, your heart melting as you found your baby raised high in Bucky’s arms, playing Airplane on his back on the floor, Bucky’s strong arms flying your little boy above him.

“Good morning,” you interrupted the reverie although you knew Bucky would have heard you getting up from the bedroom.

“Say good morning to Mama, buddy,” Bucky said, lowering to baby to sit on his tummy and waving for him.

“You weren’t in bed. You should be sleeping,” you faux chastised him, joining your boys in the floor, giving the little one’s soft dark curls a gentle caress.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Bucky winked. “We fell asleep in the chair. Then when he woke up, he was hungry, so we’ve also had a bottle and a poop.”

“Lucky you,” you joked with a grin.

“And I don’t clean up just anyone’s poop, you know.”

“I know,” you kissed him again. “Happy First Father’s Day, Bucky baby.”

He blushed. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Let me go make you a post-mission Father’s Day recovery breakfast and maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even get you your Father’s Day present.”

“You got me a present?” Bucky asked fondly.

“Not me,” you kissed Bucky and popped up, heading towards the kitchen. “The little man in your arms,” you winked as he gave your little one another warm cuddle and went back to Airplane. “And maybe another present or two when the little guy goes to down for his nap.”

Bucky hummed. “Happy Father’s Day to me, buddy!”


	6. Firefighter!au Bucky lumbers into your bakery after a long night

He had such a familiar entrance these days. The sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor echoed in the empty patisserie and the tired grunt of his form attempting to make itself comfy on a teeny barstool, _his barstool_. 

He was working nights, argh. You were sleeping soundly when he left and when he finished, you’d been at work for hours only to come home and he was waking to start again. Moments together seemed so fleeting.

You preferred when he was on days, but he lived for his job. He lived for his Company and his brothers. 

But how you were managing to maintain a relationship to now was staggering. You bit back a giggle at your initial meeting, after a “little” kitchen fire and the embarrassment of the fire brigade called by conscientious neighbours, you’d have lit yourself on fire if it meant seeing Lt. Barnes again and his stony eyes. Jesus. And that wicked, wicked little smirk as he found the comedy in the seriousness of how the fire began. And how he pushed the tendril of dark hair from his messy bun at the nap of his neck as he checked you over, his paramedic training coming in handy as he took your racing pulse.

Pulling his special mug from the pile, you poured him a cup of hard deserved straight black coffee and quietly approached him. “Big night, sweetheart?” you slid the mug before him, realising the sun was rising through the shop windows. He barely raised his head to nod as you cupped his cheek, gently patting his stubbly cheek. You reached for the paper and put it before him as the chime on the door rang and your first customers for the day started filing in. 

An hour later and a lull in serving, Bucky lifted himself to his feet, moving around the counter to sit his calloused, still ashy hands on your hips. “I need sleep, babydoll,” he told you. Resting his forehead on yours, he left a lingering kiss on your lips, the smell of the night’s fire still lingering on his person. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” you replied, reaching for the pastry you’d put aside for him in a brown paper bag. “Have a shower, get some sleep. Remember I love you.”

He gave you a small grin, the blush of your words raising across his handsome face to his ears. “Remember I love you,” he replied, kissing you again as the bell rang, announcing more customers. “I’m off tonight, I’ll make dinner.”

“Forget it, we’re ordering pizza and drinking wine,” you corrected him as he nodded, a much more relaxing option. “Now, go you. Sleep.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he stressed, raising his palms, the bag gripped in his tattooed left hand. “Have a good day, baby.”

“Bye,” you barely managed before attending to other customers. 


	7. You wouldn’t wake up in the dead of night for just anything

There were only three things that you ever considered fair to wake you when you were in a deep slumber:

  1. The sound of rain on the window pane.
  2. The sound of Bucky’s boots hitting the side of the bed and the clinks of armour being unbuckled when he got home from a mission at some ridiculous hour.
  3. His murmurings of adoration and the press of his hot flesh against yours when he needed to be reminded of how much you loved and lived for him.



And tonight you enjoyed all three.


	8. Christmas decorations come early this year

“It’s November third, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, a tangle of Christmas lights in your palms as you tried to source the dud that was stopping you from hanging them on the green plastic tree before you. Still waiting to be dressed, lights first before you went to town with glitter and any other sparkle you could find to adorn it.

“You sure it’s not too early to be putting this up?” Bucky asked, his firm hands spreading across your belly to wrap around you and cuddle in close.

“I held off because of Halloween and now that rubbish is all over and done with, it’s holiday time. Don’t give me shit about this, Bucky. This could have happened two days ago.”

He chuckled quietly. “Okay, okay. Can I help at least?”

“Sure. Can you help me replace this little globe, please? I think I stood on it earlier when I was a bit too excited to whip them out.”

Nodding against you, Bucky pulled back and offered his hands. “I can do that,” he took the stream of lights and the spare to the couch and started fiddling as you found your phone and streamed some Christmas tunes through the apartment. Bucky grinned again, remembering the previous Christmas and how he’d estimated he’d listened to Mariah Carey, Boobs and Sia over one hundred times each. Fastening the new globe, and happy as it lit up, Bucky stood and held out his hands and the light strand to you. “Shall I start at the top for you?” he offered as you nodded eagerly and held up your phone’s camera expectantly. “You’re going to put this on Instagram, aren’t you?” he sighed.

“I’m one hundred percent putting this on Instagram,” you confirmed. “Smile, you big hunk of super solider, you,” you teased as he forced a smile that said more of ‘I love you but you’re batshit crazy this time of year’ instead of the ‘Yay, it’s the Holiday season, motherfuckers. Let’s get merry!’ like you wanted as you pouted and jutted a hip, put out. It was enough for Bucky who laughed heartedly at your response and you got the perfect picture of him bathed in soft white, eyes crinkled happily and wide smile over gleaming teeth.

“Just gorgeous,” you said, a little taken back at just how handsome he was in the picture. You showed him as he scoffed and went back to the tree. You watched him just a little while longer, wondering just how you got so lucky to have such a wonderful man, yours and yours alone.


	9. Bucky’s being called in but you don’t want him to leave

“I have to go,” Bucky sighed, the insessant pinging of his phone demanding his urgent attention. He attempted to sit up, the messy sheets remains of last night’s love making pooling around his waist.

“But you just got back,” you protested, dragging the warm sheet up. He sighed, grounding his feet on the hardwood, and ran his hands through his wild wavy dark locks. You never made leaving easy for him.

“Saving the world is a full time job, babydoll.”

You paused. A fairly valid argument. One you would never win with a man who felt he had so much of his past to make up for.

“I’m sorry,” he stood to his full height, finding his discarded items of clothing around his feet. He slid on his boxer briefs and slowed to a stop as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his ribs and kissing slow and purposefully down his spine. He couldn’t contain his moan and he reached back but refused to face you. “Stop, love,” he begged. “Please?”

Sighing, you nodded against his skin and dropped your arms then your body back to the bed. Reluctantly, he continued finding his gear and layering back up, not before long fully dressed again.

“Quicker you let me go, quicker I’ll be home, sugar,” he reminded gently and stood before you, his palms and their contrast of warm and chilly against the apples of your cheeks. He rested his forehead against yours, lightly nudging the tip of your nose with his.

“And if I never let you?” You wrapped a tight grip into his hair as he gave you a smile. You inhaled, wanting and needing to remember his scent.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He teased.

“We can just go back to Wakanda and forget the world and it’s bullshit,” you suggested.

“I’m not sure that’s quite fair to T’Challa.”

“Then what about fair to us?”

“Our time will come, honey. I’ll make an honest woman of you yet.”

“Believe it when I see it,” you scoffed as he let out a hearty laugh.

“God, I love you,” his lips covered yours and he kissed you deeply. “I’ll call as soon as I can, okay?”

You nodded as he moved for you and picked up his GO bag near the door. “Be safe.”

“I will be home as soon,” he gave a gentle wave and disappeared through the door, letting it close quietly after him.


	10. With the power out on a hot night, resisting Bucky is fruitless

To dial or not to dial, that was the question as you looked at the empty bed beside you. You couldn’t sleep, it felt a million degrees in your apartment. The power had died hours ago so air con and the solitary fan in your room wasn’t an option. The cool sheets only offering moments of respite until your body heat warmed them up again as you tossed and turned.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you hissed, looking at your text message chain with Bucky. He was gloating he had power, air con and a big bed that could easily be shared by the both of you but you had to resist him. Too many times lately you ended up in his bed and all it did was remind you how deep you were in love with him and how _not_ in love he was with you. Healthy.

Argh, it hurt to even remember how bad you had it for him. He ticked every box in the fuck buddy category: funny ✔️ clever ✔️ a body for sin and he knows how to use it ✔️ See? Perfect.

But he wasn’t a relationship guy and explained that on your first hook up - he didn’t need the colleratal damage a relationship could bring after leaving so much of it in his past. You know, being the Winter Solider and all. At that moment all you could think of was ripping his clothes off and tasting every inch of him (sidenote: he tasted better than pure honey) so you were able to forget his rules pretty quickly.

Then his texts started making you feel giddy when they came in and you knew you had to pull up the reins. If you got excited about his texts to come over and fuck, you surely were getting in too over your head. Well, shit. You wished the goddamn battery of your phone would die too. It had been holding on to its last 2% for ages. If your phone died, tonight’s tête-à-tête could be over and done with. The one time you left phone wasn’t letting you down! Again, _fuck_!

_** Bucky ** : look, just come by for a bit. I’ve got A/C, pizza and my t-shirt you claimed as yours is under the pillow you also claimed as yours. _

Resist. You must resist. The mere thought of him made your thighs quiver. Just like they did after your usual fuckfests and you were like Bambi learning how to walk, much to his constant amusement.

_** You ** : sorry, I’m exhausted. I’m just gonna stay here. Thanks tho, later x _

The tone was so ridiculously unlike you. He’d see right through it. While Bucky may be shithouse at relationships, he was amazing at reading you and he could spot a tell on you a mile away. Even via text.

_** Bucky ** : how about I come there with a container of Ben and Jerry’s? We can cool you down as I lick it off you?  _

Blushing to yourself, you had to giggle. That silly little schoolgirl giggle that was reserved for only Bucky. “Fuck,” it did sound nice. “You, sir,” you dictated as you typed. “Have to give up tonight.”

_** Bucky ** : Can’t say I didn’t try. But I’m at the door anyway and I’ve got the Ben and Jerry’s. _

You shook your head, biting back a nervous grin of anticipation. “Jesus, Bucky,” you said, grabbing a nightshirt and heading for the front door. Spying him through the looking glass, he was in sneakers, his failsafe black jeans and a black t-shirt that glued to his clammy chest, showing off his biceps and vibranium. His hair tucked into a half up-half down pony. God, he looked so good. It was criminal.

“Resistance is futile,” he called through the door with a chuckle. “So let me in already.”

Opening the door, you bit back a grin. “Hi. Presumptuous of you to just turn up here…” you tried to flirt.

Smiling wide, he returned your salutation. “Got spoons?” He showed the bucket of ice cream.

“Your texts suggested we didn’t need ‘em,” you bounced right back as he walked in and picked you up, flushing you body to his and you wrapped your legs around his waist and his full lips crashed against yours as the power in the apartment shuddered to life. “Thank God! Now everything you promised via text? You’d better deliver.”

“I promised multiple orgasms and I won’t quit trying until my mission is achieved.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Interested Bystander writes](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/interestedbystanderwrites) on Tumblr.  
> 


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